We Are In This Together
by Anna Fay
Summary: "Come on, princess, don't cry," said Haymitch in a low voice, transferring the empty glass into his right hand already holding the bottle so that he could pat her on the back with his left. "Think of all the hard work you've put into that pretty face of yours!" he deadpanned, making her utter a weak laugh that must have sounded too much like a sob.


It's been ages since they have received flowers; three years to be exact.

That had been the last time any of their tributes killed off someone in the arena by her own hand. The bouquet back then had been a lovely mix of grass pinks and bog stars, but the florists went the extra mile this year and used white trilliums, giving even their stems and leaves a pearly sheen to make them as magnificent as any flower coming from District 12 could aspire to be.

"Pen and paper, please," said Effie, clearing her throat as she finally managed to let go of one of the leaves. They gave off a faint scent of spring showers when you rubbed them between your fingers.

"I'll do it." Haymitch took both items from the Avox girl, slamming the paper on the table beside the vase and jotting down a few words of thanks on it for the mentors of One, proving once again that he was perfectly capable of dealing with his own correspondence, and it had been a huge mistake to let him know how well she could imitate his handwriting when the occasion called for it.

"Well, good night then," Effie sighed as the girl took the letter to be delivered.

"Not so fast, princess!" Haymitch took her by the elbow and stopped her as she started walking towards her room. "We have things to do," he said, grabbing the bottle of champagne that came with the flowers.

"Sorry." She shook her head with an apologetic smile. "I'm not in the mood."

"Take it from an expert, you need a drink," he argued.

"No. What I need is taking off these shoes and getting into a hot bath," she said. "But you should go on and..." She touched his shoulder instead of finishing the sentence.

He loosened his hold on her with a silent nod, but just as she was about to pull away, he slid his hand down her arm and took hers before he spoke again. "It's rude to leave a present unopened, and surely you can't expect me to finish the whole bottle on my own," he pleaded.

"Oh no, not the puppy eyes!" she groaned, but it only made him double his efforts. He even moved a step closer and brushed the back of her hand with his thumb when she tried to turn her head to the side.

"Fine," she agreed at last, pursing her lips slightly. She hated being bullied into things, but maybe he was right. Maybe she needed that drink after the day they have just had. "One glass."

Stricktly speaking both the flowers and the champagne were for him alone, with either a smaller bouquet or a box of chocolates waiting for Effie in her room from the escort of One, congratulating her upon her tribute's victory over theirs in the morning. But as it would have felt cruel to rob him of the chance to share his joy with someone, on the rare occasions District 12 had a reason to celebrate, she tiptoed over the line and let him share it with her instead of the second mentor their team has never had.

"Thank you," he said, leading her towards the living room. "And I promise I won't tell anyone you took them off out here," he added over his shoulder as he went to fetch a pair of glasses and caught her reaching for the straps of her shoes to loosen them a bit as soon as she sank down onto the sofa.

"No, I'm fine," she said and took her hands away, but to be entirely honest, it was an awfully tempting idea.

She put them on in the morning because they were the most expensive pair she owned, and once he managed to kill the boy from One during the night, their tribute was sure to have the attention of the sponsors. She was right of course, and they had the chance to meet more people in one day than throughout a whole season any year before; so by lunchtime she could almost completely forget about her numb toes, the fiery pain in the balls of her feet, or both her heels being rubbed raw over and over again.

As Haymitch returned from the liquor cart she crossed her feet at the ankles and tucked them to the side to give them some relief, then took the glasses from him and held them while he opened the bottle and filled them way past the level one with proper manners would fill a champagne glass.

"So," he said, sweeping his hair out of his face and pulling his shoulders back as he sat beside her and took his from her hand. "To Daryl Jessup!"

"To Daryl!" Effie clinked her glass against his before raising it to her lips and taking a sip.

No one could have accused the mentors of One of being sorry losers, the champagne was delicious, and even had some chemicals added to it to give the bubbles dancing in it a faint golden glow, making it easy for her to get lost in watching them.

"Are you all right?" asked Haymitch after a long silence, and even though her glass was still half full, he topped it up for her before he poured another round for himself. This time he didn't even put the bottle back on the small table beside the sofa, just rested it on his knee.

"Of course," she said. "I just... thought he'd be the one." She tried to add at least half a smile to that confession, but she could tell how oddly it sat on her lips, so had to take a very long sip to conceal it.

"Welcome to my world!" He raised his glass for a toast before draining it in about two drafts.

She watched him for a moment longer as he picked the bottle up again, this time to read the label as if he really cared what they were drinking before turning back to her glass and the golden bubbles in it. They were a lot harder to spot through the tears that had been lurking around the corner ever since poor Daryl had gone too deep into the river and got dragged under by a current never to resurface alive, so she just closed her eyes and let them roll down her cheeks.

"Stupid boy," she sniffed. "He knew he couldn't swim. Why did he have to..." Her voice broke midsentence, and no matter how hard she tried to swallow them, she could feel fresh ones flooding her eyes to replace them.

The audience and the sponsors went crazy for the boy when he started wandering the arena covered in the blood of his enemy and still clutching the weapon that had killed him. They loved him even more when upon finding the river he flung the knife as far into it as he could with a scream. Effie could still hear the excited whispers around them when he ran into the water to wash off the blood and the horrified gasps when the waves knocked him off his feet and dragged him into the deep.

"Come on, princess, don't cry," said Haymitch in a low voice, transferring the empty glass into his right hand already holding the bottle so that he could pat her on the back with his left. "Think of all the hard work you've put into that pretty face of yours!" he deadpanned, making her utter a weak laugh that must have sounded too much like a sob, because he squeezed her shoulder with a sigh so heavy it made her wonder what was going on inside _his_ head.

In her first year on the Games he had thrashed half the living room when their second tribute died. It had been three in the morning, and she had been too scared to move let alone run back to her room, so she had seen it all happen.

In the following three he just drank himself unconscious as fast as he could.

Then in the previous season it had been the one and only time she had seen him cry. She has never learned which of the tributes was the special one and why, but when they both died during the initial bloodbath, he wept for them so hard that she couldn't help holding him until he finally fell asleep curled up like a child and with his head in her lap.

Feeling the memories making her heart ache again, Effie wiped away her tears, frowning a little over seeing her supposedly waterproof mascara smudged onto her fingers before taking a deep, calming breath and downing the rest of her champagne in one unladylike go.

"Want some more?" Haymitch sat up straighter, offering her the last of the champagne.

She nodded and held out her glass for him. "And you?" she asked when he poured it all out for her.

"I need something stronger." He got up and walked over to the liquor cart. She watched him picking a bottle and padding back to the sofa, and as he sat next to her again and took a long swig, she decided that for once she genuinely could not care less if he was using a glass or not.

She sipped her champagne slowly, sitting in silence and savouring this strange new sensation for so long that by the time she had finally drained her glass, there were hardly any bubbles left in it.

"Feeling better?" asked Haymitch. She couldn't remember how full his bottle had been when he took it from the cart, but half of its content was already gone.

Saying no would have been too unpleasant, even under given circumstances, so Effie turned to him with a wry smile. "Sorry for being such a lousy company tonight."

"Nonsense," he argued with a grin. "You've been excellent company. As always."

"Well, we all must try our best," she said, searching his face for any hints of sarcasm, but fortunately for once she found none. Then before she could have stopped herself, she went on: "Do you mind if I stay a little longer?" Sometimes he demanded to be left on his own, but she couldn't face going back to her room and being alone for the rest of the night yet.

"Not at all," he answered, then raised he bottle in salute before he drank from it. "We are in this together."

"Are you trying to be nice?" she chuckled.

"Have you ever seen me being nice?" Haymitch retorted almost indignantly.

"No, of course not, sorry."

She studied his face for a little longer, then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before she put her head on his shoulder with a sigh. He seemed neither surprised nor discomforted by it and even put his arm around her, so once Effie took off the earring that was digging into her neck and threatening to cut into the fabric of his jacket, she could snuggle up to him even better.

There was one more thing to be improved though.

"I thought walking around barefoot was the _pinnacle of impropriety_ ," he teased, using what he considered to be his best Capitol accent as he started toeing off her shoes.

"It is, but I'm not going anywhere," she replied promptly. "And by the way, you've promised not to tell anyone."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading!  
This story has a special place in my heart, as this is the first I had started writing when I got hooked up in this fandom. I hope you'll like it too! :)_


End file.
